Behind the Mask
by Bianca Bubbles
Summary: Shortly after the invasion, Tony Stark worries about his friends in the silence of Stark tower. One-shot. No slash, just friendship.


I hope you enjoy my shot at the world of the Avengers...which I sadly don't own.

Thanks to mermaidpotato for beta reading for me. She was very helpful, as always.

* * *

It was too quiet. Nothing helped. He tried playing his music at the highest setting through the house, turning on every television, switching every beeper or alarm, ordering JARVIS to read the Harry Potter books aloud at high volume...

But the noise wouldn't sit right in his bones and he was forced to return to silence.

Tony sat in front of the blank screen of the television, twisting his fingers in and out of fists, unbelievably unsettled.

He gripped his temples with a growl. Action flared behind his eyelids, explosions, collisions, gaping wounds, bruised ribs, pockmarked bodies... Faces faded in and out, identities of his dearest...

Pepper.

His breathing quickened. Where was she? He could see her crying out on a city street, stomach blown open by shrapnel, aliens approaching with their blue weapons blazing..

Tony pulled his phone from his pocket with shaking fingers, "JARVIS! Call Pepper."

"Sir, she's on a business trip to China, she asked not to be interrupted."

"Just do it!" He barked, eying the screen in his palm. Pepper's face shined at him, bordered by green letters.

"Tony?" she whispered, "What's going on?" The bustle of a business conference echoed behind her words.

He attempted to express his terror, the fear, the panic, "Are...are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright, are you?" her annoyed tone had softened into concern.

"Um... yes. I'm fine. I just wanted to... check in," Tony fought for his Stark composure.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah yeah pepper pot, I'm...right as rain." he felt his pulse with his free hand and struggled to measure the throbbing.

"I'd love to chat Tony, but I've got to go, we're on the verge of an important deal here."

"Of course."

Pepper hesitated before saying goodbye and ending the call.

Tony tried once more to relax. His breaths wheezed in and out, his throat felt thick and useless. His panic had subsided for a moment, but he couldn't escape the frantic images of death and fire for long.

The Captain.

Tony saw him falling too fast, flailing in the air, saw him hit a cliff with a resounding thud that could only mean one thing. The mask cracked in two, a neat starburst of blood...

"Call the Captain!"

"Hello?" the Captain's voice was distant.

"Captain!" Tony's breath whistled with the words, "Where are you?"

"Hello? Who is this...How does this thing work anyways?"

"Captain, can you hear me!" Tony exclaimed, "Are you okay?"

"Which end is which?"

"Please Captain, just let me know if you're okay."

"Am I holding this backwards?"

"Captain!"

"What does this..." The call ended without another word.

It was quiet again. Again, Tony's mind erupted with noise: gunshots, dying screams, desperate crying... He felt his heart arresting; he felt frigid water and stuffy desert air rocket back and forth across his cheekbones.

The noise faded into a buzz, a sensory fog.

Bruce.

In the unbelievable silence, Bruce sat alone, pistol in hand. His stubborn, sarcastic eyes melted into weakness; his breaths considered the end, slow and even. Bruce began the deadly notion with an arc of his arm.

"JARVIS, Bruce!"

The phone returned to Tony's hand, he screamed into it with a shaky cry, "Put the gun down Bruce! Put it down!"

"What?"

"I told you're alive for a reason!" his words tripped and fell over one another, "We need you! The world needs you."

"What are you talking about?" Bruce's words were measured.

"Don't kill yourself, please."

"I'm not going to. I wasn't going...to."

A breathless pause consumed Stark Tower. Tony's chest seemed to collapse into itself with the breath. His inner tension seemed to loosen, the knot in his brain untied. Something shifted. Everything seemed clearer.

"Are you okay Tony? Something's wrong..."

"Post traumatic stress."

"What about it?"

"That's what it is. I just had some sort of attack, not sure why. Afghanistan? The invasion? There must've been some sort of trigger..."

"You had a panic attack?" Bruce interrupted.

"I need to check vitals, check my arc reactor, make sure everything's alright..."

"Tony, I'm coming up there."

"No I'm fine," Tony's cool composure was coming back shakily, "Just got to make some checks, but I'm alright now."

"Tony, I'm just downstairs. Let me come up and help you out."

Tony felt his pulse with a hand, timed it with the watch on his free wrist. He felt the lingering ache in his chest and his shivering breaths.

"Alright," he admitted, "If you want."

"Well, I'll be right up then."

The call ended with a click. Tony pulled a moist hand across the back of his neck, breathing slowly. Everything was going to be okay. Though Tony would never admit it, the man of iron worries. He worries about all of them. All the time.


End file.
